


A borrowed shirt

by Aria10191



Series: Meira Surana, Andrea Hawke and Éirinn Lavellan worldstate [1]
Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Dark, Friendship, Gen, Goodbyes, The Warden is making mistakes, Veteran Warden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 10:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19374940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria10191/pseuds/Aria10191
Summary: Warden Commander Meira Surana is awakened in the middle of the night, when a fugitive friend runs to her for protection. She knows, what he had done. She knows, what is her duty. And still, she lies, looking into the eyes of her own men, to save one, who has changed forever. A bitter goodbye between two mages, two Grey Wardens, when one is heading into the darkness.





	A borrowed shirt

"Are you sure, he did it?"

It was impossible to read anything from the Warden-Commander’s dark blue eyes. She was sitting beside the table, the long fingers of her right hand slowly pounding on the wood, in a chaotic rhythm. For the young Warden, who came with the message, this scene was almost scary… Meira Surana was the Hero of Ferelden, the leader of the grey, most people couldn’t even remember all her titles. Some new recruits only saw her at the Joining and during the bigger meetings – for them the silver-blue armor and the griffon crest was part of who she was. The young woman wasn’t prepared to meet her like this – sitting in a smaller house near the main gates of Amaranthine, in the faint, sweet scent of dried elfroot, with disheveled, short blond hair, wearing an oversized shirt and a pair of worn-out trousers, tucked in old leather boots just like any poor city elf. The girl was even taller than Meira, so she seemed somehow fragile, delicate – it was impossibly hard to imagine, that she was the one who slayed the Archdemon.

The elf looked up at her, the pounding of her fingers stopped, so the young Warden swallowed, and answered.

"Most died instantly, like the killer would have known exactly where to strike to kill. And it was from magic. Strong magic."  
"But was it surely _him_?" the young woman could hear the pain from the Commanders’ words, the slight tremble in her voice. She knew perfectly well, just how close the elf was with the first Wardens after the Blight.  
"He was last seen with them. And we know… _you_ know, that Anders had many problems with templars. The veterans all agree. He is responsible." Meira didn’t move and inch. "I’m sorry, I bothered you, we know you needed some rest" the young Warden added.  
"I’m grateful you came. I had to hear this" Meira nodded standing up. "In two days, I will be back to Vigil’s Keep. Alistair will come back by that time, we will discuss further matters then."

The girl stood from one foot to the other, like she would be afraid to ask anything more, but she gathered her courage.

"Should we send out patrols for him?"

Meira stopped in her movement, and didn’t look her in the eye, when she answered. Her voice was low and heavy.

"You should. But if you find him… don’t kill him. Not unless you have to protect yourselves."  
"He is an abomi…"  
"I said, don’t kill him!" Meira raised her voice, looking at the girl above her shoulder. "He will pay for what he had done, but _I_ will pass judgement on him. I owe him that much as a comrade, a leader and a friend. Do you understand?"

The young Warden nodded, and when Meira thanked her again and gestured towards the door, she left. The elven mage could hear her footsteps for a while, as she walked through the small garden, her heavy boots bouncing on the stepping stones, and only moved to turn the key, and lock the house, when the only noise left was the night-song of the crickets. For long moments, she just stood there in the middle of the room. Then, she stepped to the back chamber, which she normally used to dry and store wild herbs, opened the door, and grabbed the robe of the young man sitting on the floor, smashing him into the wall, without any fear or restraint. No matter, what was the Warden messenger’s impression, she was actually far stronger than she looked – the Arcane Warriors knew how to use magic to enhance their strength, and Meira was really good, even amongst the few of them.

"Andraste’s flaming sword come down upon you Anders!" she hissed, looking into his eyes. "How could you do this to me?"

The young mage looked terrible. His blond hair, normally kept in a low ponytail was now dirty and rumpled, his eyes dark-rimmed, like he hadn’t slept for days, his face much paler than usual. His warden robes were torn and burnt, and one could recognize the smaller injuries left from his fight with the templars – the sword-cut on his left arm, once deep, and most likely heavily bleeding, now, already healing from magic. A purplish bruise near his collarbone from a blunt hit, some smaller frost-burns from his own spells. His eyes reminded Meira both of the eyes of the prey… hunted, fearful… and the eyes of a predator, proud and ruthless. Completely different feelings, like she would look into the eyes of two different beings at the same time.

Anders didn’t answer, so Meira finally let go of his robes, and let him catch his breath. The panting soon turned into violent coughs, perhaps from the effects of the fight, or from the strong, sometimes irritating scent of the herbs in the small chamber where he hid. At first, Meira didn’t take a step, but after a few coughs, she moved towards Anders, rubbing his back, and stretching his shoulders.

"It’s alright" said the mage, once he could talk. "I took a smaller hit to the chest. It will get better."

Meira immediately stepped back, like that slight moment of caring would suddenly seem inappropriate – she lost the look of a friend, and turned strict and cold again.

"Then you can answer my question."

Anders swallowed, and he sounded unnaturally calm, when he started to speak.

"It was self-defense. They called out the templars on me, I had to react fast."

Meira raised an eyebrow, never moving her gaze from the young man.

"You could have knocked them out."  
"I couldn’t focus on kno…"  
"How stupid you think I am?"

The elf sounded dead serious, and for a moment, as she stepped to Anders, the mage was sure she will grab his robe, and smash him to the wall again.

"You are a healer. You are the best healer I ever met in my life. You know the human body more than anyone else, all vital points, injuries. You know exactly how to kill and how to be merciful. If you killed them, you deliberately gone for the kill. Don’t try to fool me. Why did you kill them?"

Anders raised his hands in defense, his first familiar gesture since he entered the house.

"I wanted to talk. It was a complicated situation, I tried to explain it, but no one would let me. I was cornered, and I had to make a decision, which I did."  
"The Anders I know wouldn’t have gone for the kill." Meira repeated. "Against darkspawn, always. Against templars, maybe. But against Wardens, never."

She stepped even closer, and her appearance started to become intimidating. She was connecting the dots. The strange look in the eyes, the fierce pride paired with fear. The unnaturally calm, and sometimes roundabout speech pattern. The unwavering trust for her, and only for her. The young Warden's never-finished sentence: “He is an abomination.” It all fell into place.

"They sold you out" she said. "They betrayed you, when they called out for the templars. And you can’t forgive betrayal… can you, _Justice_?"

Anders backed to the wall, and for a moment, that strange double-look absolutely disappeared from his eyes, like he would be himself, and only himself.

"How did you know?"  
"You were both my friends, remember? I know you too well." She stepped back as well, and flopped down on the chair. "Although I still don’t know, how could you be such a blighted idiot."

The young man couldn’t speak. He knew he would only make it worse. He stood in the room foolishly, as though he would wait for judgement. In some sense of the word, he was. Meira closed her eyes, one of her fingers traced the bigger tattoo on her face, around her eyes, as she questioned:

"How did it happen?"  
"We decided together" answered Anders.  
"You can be a bit more specific."  
"I was always… you know, how I feel about the Circle, I never hid it. Justice knew it too. He was… always a good friend. We annoyed each other a bit, but I could trust him. So he just… looked out for me, from the Fade. Since his… or Kristoff’s death, I had no nightmares, none of the Warden dreams. He contacted me, soon after I came back from the Tower again. He drew from my experiences and emotions there, and offered aid… more like a mutual agreement. He would help me to help other mages, and I give him a chance to fight against injustice. It was a fair trade." Meira just sighed, and it seemed like Anders would know her next move, because he started to speak faster. "It was my fault I lost it. Not his. I knew my own emotions, I knew all the risks, but I still walked into it."  
"You were too strong for him, and you made him too strong for you" the elf whispered.

It was strange. She still had good memories, and deep gratitude towards Wynne – she was a mentor, someone she could trust and rely on while on the run. She remembered her Faith spirit, and looking at Anders still miserably fallen apart, she knew exactly what was the difference. Wynne’s faith was pure. The virtue her spirit embodied perfectly fitted her personality. She never wanted to get anything for her faith, be it in the Maker, in a pupil, in Meira herself. Anders’ need for justice was tainted – more tainted than his blood that carried the curse of the darkspawn. And worse, even Justice was falling since he first became part of the human world… Meira still remembered his obsession with Kristoff’s possessions, his deep amazement of the lyrium ring, and envy towards the feeling of love. A fusion of a damaged spirit and a tainted human, even if both were good intentioned was the recipe of tragedy.

"Do you feel guilty?" Meira asked, looking at the mage again. Anders opened his mouth, then closed it. The Warden-Commander knew, he just swallowed a lie.  
"I know I should" he answered.  
"But they sold you out. Betrayed you." Anders didn’t look in her eye. "How do you feel now?" no answer. "Don’t think on it."  
"I’m afraid." This time, Meira’s sigh was more of relief.  
"Are you angry?"  
"I am. But it’s faint. Controllable."  
"Look at me" the young man turned. "How do you feel about me?"  
"I’m grateful. And still afraid" came the immediate answer, followed by an angry hiss. "You are testing me if I’m an abomination."  
"I encountered many abominations. If you were one, I would know it" she shook her head. "I’m more learning. Trying to understand where you end, and where he begins."  
"Still really Circle-like" this was so natural, and so Anders, that Meira could even smile a little. It was a sad, bitter smile, but at least, a smile.  
"I was a Circle mage for twenty years. You should forgive me for keeping some habits." The smile faded in a moment, and didn’t came back, leaving her face motionless and almost cold.

The young man immediately realized the change, and he knew that if ever, now it was time for true judgement. Although Meira protected him, he remembered her answer to the young Warden. “ _I_ will past judgement on him. I owe him that much.” The elf stood up again, and Anders closed his eyes… but he only felt a little breeze, as she walked past him, into the other room, and she opened the cracked wardrobe beside the bed. As everything in the house, it was strangely old and simple… as if Meira wanted to escape not only from duty, but from everything that being the Arl of Amaranthine meant, when she came here. Anders only got back to himself, when a crumpled shirt and a pair of trousers hit him.

"Change" the elf said. "Leave your clothes in the other room, I will burn them."

The young man gasped, and didn’t move for a moment.

"If you are worried about the shirt, it is Alistair’s. He will manage without it" still no response. "Get yourself together, and change. A fugitive Warden can be recognized anywhere."  
"You are letting me go."  
"I lied to one of my own. I lied, when she told me, you murdered my men. I lied, despite having every reason to sell you out. You can't seriously think, I will kill you now."  
"But why…"  
"Because I handed the cup to Velanna, and gave Nathaniel another chance. Before him, I opened the cage of a qunari I had no reason to trust. I gave freedom to a golem who hated everything humans stood for. Because I owe my life to a maleficar" she sighed again. "Half of my life, I didn’t have the chance to make choices. I was born an elf, it marked me, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I was born a mage, it marked me, and I couldn’t do anything about it. They took me to be a Warden, and once again, I couldn’t do anything about it. But since then, everything was about choices, and mostly those came down to only one thing… giving chances. Trusting people, even if I don’t know if they deserve it. Accepting help or denying it. I gave many chances to strangers. I won’t be able to look in the mirror if I didn’t give any to a friend."

Her words were sincere, and scaringly open. It somehow made her more vulnerable, than Anders ever thought possible.

"You said…"  
"That the Anders I know never would have gone for the kill. I’m not forgiving you. _Neither of you"_ the vulnerable sincerity once again turned darker and stricter. "It is a sin that stays with you, and whenever I look at you, I will see the blood on your hands. But you will run. You will leave Ferelden, you never come back, and Maker knows how, maybe atone. If they catch you, if they bring you back to me, I made a promise and I won’t go back on it. I let you go this one time, because I believe in you enough to give you a chance."

She turned away, leaning to the wall with one shoulder, and her voice suddenly sounded terribly tired. Everything was gone from it. Both the strictness and the anger, both the helpful hint of friendship, reminiscent of the better moments. Just that sheer, dull tiredness left, as rough as the fabric of the shirt she gave him. She repeated once again.

"Change."

**Author's Note:**

> I was always bothered by how they handled the Anders-Warden friendship in DA2 - like it would be nonexistent. In my playthrough, my Warden had a strong friendship with Anders, and I just found it sad that she was barely even mentioned. So I decided to write a bitter, sadder ending to this relationship - the Warden, as always, gives a chance to a friend, and none of them know yet how terribly he will waste it. It's also a try to fill in the gap between DAO:A Anders, and DA2 Anders... I was really disappointed how they handled him - but unlike many, I was more angry because we couldn't see his downfall from beginning to the end, than his personality changes. I mean, he is like a mix between Justice and Anders, which perfectly fits into the story. And finally - this fic is trying to make the Warden a little more flawed, instead of being the ideal hero.  
> English is not my first language, so there can be some mistakes, or differences in the styling of the text... I hope I will fix them in time.


End file.
